


starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights

by HackedByAWriter



Series: i turned our lives into folklore [4]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Song: Call It What You Want (Taylor Swift), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25031200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackedByAWriter/pseuds/HackedByAWriter
Summary: PILLOW FORTS BITCHES.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: i turned our lives into folklore [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059014
Comments: 32
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my pareshan gays :')](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+pareshan+gays+%3A%27%29), [daydreamingstoryteller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamingstoryteller/gifts).



> Even tho this was originally for Mehan it's now also for my pareshaan gays. 
> 
> Only you lot can bring me out of my self imposed smzs break.
> 
> First and foremost Mehan is a hoe for causing you all pain today by reccing that fic but also you all are hoes for fucking reading it (ik ik it's well written I dont blame you). Istg you all wanna sign your own death warrants sometimes. Anyway, here's some fluffy serotonin to alleviate the pain. It's not my best but I hope you like it. (No ghoris I promise).

_My castle crumbled overnight_

_I brought a knife to a gunfight_

_They took the crown, but it's alright_

It was a quiet night in Delhi. After the uproar, the crazed circus of Allahabad, the peace was a welcome relief for Kartik and Aman. They had only just come back from the train from Allahabad this morning having (unintentionally) reenacted the iconic scene from DDLJ . 

  
  


When Aman had mentioned that his father had even said ‘jaa Simran jaa’ as they were sitting on the train, Kartik’s head on his lap, Kartik had laughed, tears spilling from his eyes, running down freshly hewn tear tracks.

  
  
  


They were in Delhi now, in their familiar room, in their familiar bed, in each other’s familiar arms, listening to each other’s familiar heartbeats. Aman was finally able to think through the events of the last few days. Take them in turn, them over, analyse them. 

  
  
  


_He had almost lost everything_. The realisation came to him. He had almost lost his freedom. The love for his family and the love of his life. Perhaps he had even come close to loosing his own life. There was no life without Kartik. There never could be. 

But it did not matter anymore. Kartik was here in arms. He still had the love of his family distilled in his father’s final embrace, his father’s encouraging words. They were said almost as if they were sung sweetly in his ears like a song, a lullaby. 

_All the liars are calling me one_

_Nobody’s heard from for months_

_I’m doing better than I ever was_

When they had arrived back in their apartment he had taken Kartik to their bed and had embraced him.

He had wanted nothing more than to simply hold onto Kartik, to never let go.

It seemed Kartik had the same idea. 

For the whole day, they had stayed here in each other’s arms. Not moving, not speaking but simply savouring each other. The only time they had let go was when one of them needed to use the bathroom and even then things were negotiable. 

They were so steadfast that, after many failed attempts, they had even managed to navigate eating food while holding on to each other (a skill which Aman predicted they would use more often in the days to come).

They were lying in bed again now the night sky and the stars glinting outside their window. 

“Allahabad was nice,” muttered Kartik.

It was the first time any of them had referenced it. Aman’s eyes went to the bruises that peaked from the edges of Kartik’s Tom and Jerry shirt. _You’re Jerry_ Kartik would often say _because you’re short and I’m Tom because I’m larger and stronger._

 _And much more prone to idiocy_ Aman would quip.

“No,” said Aman. “Allahabad was not.”

He still remembered his father and the stick and the way he had abandoned Kartik to it. He had his reasons for running up those stairs yet...for some reasons those reasons felt like excuses. Excuses for his inherent cowardice, though he knew Kartik would say otherwise.

_And I know I make the same mistakes every time_

_Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right_

_I did one thing right_

Kartik held him closer as if sensing his thoughts “Your family accepts us now. We got married. I still have you. What more could I ask for?”

Kartik did have a point. But the bruises spoke for themselves. 

He traced the large one on Kartik’s arm, lovingly, tenderly so it wouldn’t hurt, but he traced it nonetheless to tell him everything he could not say.

_My baby's fly like a jet stream_

_High above the whole scene_

_Loves me like I'm brand new_

_So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to_

“I think Rajni is my favourite Tripathi,” said Kartik after a while.

“Kamine”

“Kyun?”

“I thought I was your favourite Tripathi.”

“You don’t count as a Tripathi anymore.”

“And why not?”

“We married or have you forgotten,” Kartik pressed his forehead against Aman’s their noses now touching. “That would be Tripathi-Singh to you.”

“Or Singh-Tripathi”

“Tripathi-Singh has a better ring to it” Kartik finished and not without a certain flourish.

“You have four eyes” replied Aman. Indeed his vision had gone cross-eyed with Kartik so close.

“Says the one who needs glasses.”

“They are reading glasses saale.”

Kartik laughed and placed a light kiss on each of his eyelids before resting his face in the crook of Aman’s neck. Aman could feel his beard, his hair, his skin, and his growing smiling. It was often Kartik’s way of expressing delight, especially if that delight happened to concern Aman.

“I wish we had more pillows,” Kartik muttered against Aman’s neck.

“I thought you said I was pillow enough.” Aman found himself complaining.

Kartik looked at him brows furrowed with that stern, completely serious expression of his “I can’t make a fort out of you.”

“A fort?” Aman found himself echoing.

Kartik grinned “Rajni said when you three were little you used to gather all the pillows and mattresses in the house and make a fort out of them.”

Aman found himself smiling at the memory. “I was the oldest, so I would name myself king. Rajni and Keshav would be my advisors. We would gather up sticks and defend it. Often Keshav would be sent on dangerous missions to bring back much-needed food supplies.”

“Gelebis?”

“Pinnis and Gulab Jamuns too.” Affirmed Aman.

Kartik’s smile had turned almost sad. And Aman knew, as he always did, that Kartik was comparing their childhoods.

“Did you never build pillow forts as a child?” Asked Aman.

It was something Kartik could do now. Talk about his past trauma with Aman. 

“With my bhenchod for a father around? No.” 

It was clear he did not want to say more than that. He did not need to say anything more than that. Aman extricated himself from Kartik’s arms and went towards the living room.

“Where are you going?” Kartik asked.

“To find supplies,” answered Aman. “You can’t make a fort from thin air, you know.”

When Kartik’s eyes lit up, when his face sported that brilliant winning smile of his, Aman felt that his heart was at ease.

~~~

When Aman finally returned he was holding various assortment of mattresses, throw pillows, blankets, and sheets. Kartik suspected he got some of them from storage.

Soon they started the construction of their fort. They decided to name _Phool ka Killla_ , Though Kartik knew Aman’s experience in building forts was far greater than his, he was still surprised that Aman remembered how to do it. It must have been what? At least fifteen years since he last attempted one.

Slowly but surely their pillow fort grew along with the sounds of their laughter. More often than not they would end up arguing on points of construction, throwing the pillows at each other, wrapping each other up in the sheets. They even managed to have time to conduct a Trial by Tickling, by which one party would get another person to confess some wrongdoing in the construction of the fort by being almost tickled to death.

Kartik was sure, if they had been working under an actual king of ancient times, they would have been executed for incompetency.

They managed, however, as they always did. In the end, the _Phool Ka Killa_ wasn’t particularly tall or particularly outstanding. But in Kartik’s opinion, it was the best fort ever constructed. In his mind it rivaled the Taj Mahal (though he wasn’t sure if the Taj Mahal could be classified as a fort).

They buried themselves in their magnificent construction, their masterpiece of pillows, lopsided mattresses, blankets, and bedsheets. Like children, they wrote their own fairy tale. Under the heavily blanketed ceiling and the light of Aman’s phone Kartik could almost believe their fairy tale to be true. 

He could almost believe they were two princes (lovers of course), making secret plans ready to defend their keep, their people, their love from the secret enemy. The Godslayer. The destroyer of all things.

“We may die tomorrow,” whispered Kartik after they had made their plans for their last stand. The most magnificent last stand in the history of the world.

“At least we will die together,” said Aman as he laced his hand through Kartik’s.

Kartik’s smile became mischievous “This may very well be our last night on this earth, together.”

“One last kiss then?” questioned Aman.

Kartik leaned forward and pressed his lips against Aman’s with a ferocity, a certain hunger, that would leave their lips sore. 

The last time they had kissed like this had been by the banks of the Ganga in the early hours of the morning, awaiting the news of the High Court’s decision. They had believed then too that this would be their last one for a long time. 

Though this kiss right now held the same desperate and fury of their kiss by the Ganga. It was not a kiss that signaled the end. It was the beginning.

When they finally pulled away (for air more than anything). Aman was looking at him with a look in his large glittering eyes. The adoring admiring look that Kartik loved so well. The look that made him feel cherished more than anything. Gods above and Amitabh Bacchan himself, how he loved the other man’s eyes.

_I'm laughing with my lover, making forts under covers_

_Trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right_

_Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night_

So lost was Kartik in Aman’s eyes that he had forgotten his surroundings. In his moment of distraction, Aman leaped forward, wrapped his arms around his waist, and tackled Kartik to the bed, their pillow fort collapsing around them. The sheets tangled, the carefully propped up mattress falling to the floor. 

Aman rose slightly so that he was no longer on Kartik’s chest, but rather on top of him, straddling him, his face only a few inches away from his. Kartik looked up at him. He could not help it. He loved this man more than he had any right to.

He was not used to spontaneity from Aman. The other man was very controlled when it came to emotions, but he had to admit he derived a certain pleasure from knowing that he could drive Aman to a point where he was no longer in control.

“We’re in a rather compromising position,” said Kartik, unsure of whether he meant their bodies or the fact that their enemy, the Godslayer could now see them with their stronghold was destroyed. Not to mention the fact that their people, the innocent figments of their imagination, had most likely died in the collapse of their fort. “I don’t think I can save you now.”

Slowly softly Aman let out a whisper.

_"You don't need to save me_

_But would you run away with me?"_

_Yes_

  
______________________________

Song was [Call it What You Want](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDF5NOHH1iQ) by Taylor Swift. (I've linked a cover I really like which I listened to for this).


	2. moodboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bc I have decided to make a moodboard for the next fic in this series I thought it would a good idea to make one for every fic in this series so far <3

Here's one for this fic:


End file.
